


Chasing Time

by karaokegal



Category: Ashes to Ashes
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Het, Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge 2012, Rough Sex, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-19
Updated: 2012-05-19
Packaged: 2017-11-05 15:37:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karaokegal/pseuds/karaokegal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What has Alex done to deserve this?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chasing Time

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [MMOM](http://mmom.livejournal.com/) 2012, Day 18. Prompt from [photo_prompt](http://photo-prompt.livejournal.com/). [Challenge #15.](http://photo-prompt.livejournal.com/4221.html) Unbeta'd. Comments, concrit and Britchecking welcome.

Alex had a list of things she planned to do as soon as she woke up.

Somewhere between hugging Molly until the poor girl begged to be released and treating herself to a shopping spree at Harvey Nichols, she intended to give her unconscious a good, long talking to, starting with asking it what the hell was going on? It was bad enough to be trapped in an hallucination with these bloody Neanderthals, but the worst part was the fantasies.

In 2008, Alex Drake had no problem conjuring up explicit scenarios to enhance her sex life, whether solo or with a partner. However, even her most graphic daydreams tended to the more romantic side. Her imagined couplings took place on tropical islands, generally with a spectacular sunset in the background of tropical lagoons featuring men who treated her passionately, but with respect. Yes, there was a bit of Mills & Boon about them, but along with a tingly gel and a good vibrator, they certainly got the job done without too much damage to her self-esteem.

So why, in the name of all that was holy, did the 1983 version, find herself spending nearly every night, and some moments of the day, absolutely _consumed_ with pornographic images starring the King of the Neanderthals himself, Gene Hunt. The fantasies were as filthy as anything floating around the darkest recesses of the not-yet born internet, devoid of romantic dialogue or travelogue scenery.

Instead of blue lagoons and white sand beaches, she saw herself being taken in dark alleys and grubby offices, forced against walls and pushed over desks, while Gene growled his demeaning obscenities in her ear, calling every ugly name in his extensive repertoire of vulgarity. She hated it, hated him, hated her body for responding, her fingers for pressing roughly into her cunt and forcing her body into multiple climaxes.

She’d wake up raw and sore on her ridiculous sofa, with Gene banging at her door to kick start another day of her nightmare. On a good day, he might just say she looked tired, but most days weren’t good.

“Rise and shine, Bols. Blimey! I’ve seen Cheetham Hill slappers after a night on the town who looked better than you do right now.”

“Thanks, Guv. You’re a ray of sunshine yourself. ”

Oh yeah. That was going to be a very, very long talk.

If she ever got home.


End file.
